Of Mountain Dew, Siberia, Pants, and Crack
by sailor skippy
Summary: Kenny rants to Stan about how sucky his life, and pants, are. Stan comes up with a solution to his pants problem.


"This is bullshit," Kenny McCormick said, taking a sip of his mountain dew.

"Actually its a soda, but you can believe whatever you want," Stan, Kenny's trusted friend, said.

"I don't mean the soda Stanny, I mean life,"

"Oh,"

For the past few days the poor blonde boy was having a rough time. A rough time with what? Well, everything.

Kenny began ranting about his problems to the raven who, was indeed in the same room as him, but probably in another world as his eyes glazed over and he began mumbling things about, 'finding the great sword of Exbrel and saving the princess so he could get the award of Treibley.'

Poor kid could never find the sword of Exbrel.

It was sad.

Especially because he wasn't the brightest tool in the drawer.

...what?

"My family's being more douche baggy than ever, my grades are low, I think I'm having a mid-life-crisis even though I'm 17, I haven't showered in a week, my back and ass hurt from my peice of crap bed, I'm paired up with the fatass for our science project, the damn dragon in my backyard won't stop eating all the birds, I think I'm allergic to citrus, I realized I have no eloquence what-so-ever which means I could be trying to explain something to someone and they could take it the wrong way and I could get arrested and put on death row but luckily I escape the night before and run away to Siberia only to live with a Siberian family who teaches me their language and since I have no eloquence I'll say something offensive to them on accident and I'll have to go through all that again, but I'll probably end up in another country, and," Kenny took a long gulp of his mountain dew, then threw it in the general direction of the trash can. It almost made it in, and that's what counts the most, "most importantly I fucking hate pants."

"Why?" Stan decided to ignore Kenny's...future plans of living in a bunch of different countries offending people on accident, and glared at the empty mountain dew, trying to mentally lift it off the ground and put it in the trash can, where it belongs.

"Because they itch, they're uncomfortable, and hard to move in," Kenny explained.

"Then take them off; stop wearing them,"

Kenny looked at his friend and frowned, "I would, but I don't think I'd look good in a skirt."

"I think you'd look simply fabulous,"

"What you think doesn't count,"

"Go commando,"

"That's when you don't wear underwear,"

"Oh," Stan stood up and walked over to the soda can, "Then lose the pants and just wear boxers."

"But boxers are just like pants,"

The soda can was soon in the trash can and Stan seemed to glow with happiness. Oh how Stan loved a clean room, because cleanliness was like godliness...or something.

"Why don't you just become a nudist?"

"I don't want to run around naked," Kenny grimmaced, "I just don't want to wear pants."

"Then," Stan sat back down on his bed and looked at his blonde friend, "stop wearing pants and boxers. Just walk around with a shirt on and flaunt what you've got. But once you get comfortable with wearing nothing to cover your man-goods you'll start getting aonnoyed with your shirt, and you'll want to take that off too."

"I told you-I don't want to be a nudist. Plus I would absolutely DIE if I showed my chest in public. It's a very personal part of my body," Kenny put his hands in front of his chest and blushed.

"Here's your solution: on normal days just wear a shirt, like I first explained. That way you don't have to bother with pants. Then, on days when you're feeling fresh take off your shirt, but keep it with you so you're not a nudist, but someone who just wanted to take off their shirt for a while. Plus your man-tittes are fine. I don't think anyone would care if they saw your moobs,"

"What if I'm feeling fresh everyday?" Kenny laid on his back and began to wobble around like a fish out of water, "then I'd be naked all the time."

"If you feel fresh all the time, then you wouldn't be feeling fresh. You'd be feeling normal. When you feel super-duper-ultimately-rainbow-painted-feather-tickled-dolphin-fucked-shiny-new-car-smell-fresh, then, and ONLY then, you take your shirt off. But of course, you'll wear shoes at all times,"

"What kind of shoes?"

"Probably high heels or wedges. Something to bring out your slender legs, you know? I mean, if your gonna go bottom-less then you might as well work what you've got,"

"I like you're logic Marsh. It makes sense," Kenny sat back up and crossed his legs.

"Well I _am _the smartest in our year,"

"After Wendy and Kyle,"

"Speaking of Kyle, I think he should go pants-less too. He'd be doing the world a favor,"

"Yeah, but he wouldn't wear high heels. Big black boots would suit him, like, the ones decked out in chains and shit,"

"Yeah," Stan agreed, looking around his room wondering why the hell they were in there in the first place. Were they supposed to be working on homework? Or was it...some kind of project? Did Kenny come over just to hang out? Wait, did Stan invite Kenny over or did Kenny just show up? How the hell did Kenny even get in his room?

There was a long pause before Kenny looked at the clock on Stan's dresser and hmmm'd.

"It's getting late," Kenny stated.

"Yeah,"

"Wanna run around town naked?"

"Yeah,"

And they did. And it was great.


End file.
